


nail polish painted all over your fingertips

by sunriseafterdark



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Fluff and Humor, M/M, Nail Polish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 21:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30044787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunriseafterdark/pseuds/sunriseafterdark
Summary: tubbo and ranboo has a lot of ideas to do when meeting up. of course they can't leave out nail painting, where one party kind of hates it and the other constantly wears gloves on stream.
Relationships: Ranboo/Toby Smith | Tubbo
Comments: 11
Kudos: 206





	nail polish painted all over your fingertips

Tubbo giggles a bit too loudly, but who can blame him when he’s faced with a very much exasperated Ranboo who has white nail polish spilled all over his shirt?

“We just  _ started! _ ” Ranboo exclaims in a tone of voice that sounds too close to wailing, “how did I mess up this badly?”

Instead of answering, Tubbo collapses onto the desk they’re both sitting in front of, laughing so hard he’s reverted to complete and utter silence as he tries his hardest to catch his breath again. Lucky for the two of them, though, Tubbo’s room is mostly soundproof. It has to be with the amount of times Tubbo’s yelled or screamed on stream, and the desk banging that’s replaced the giggling is muffled from the outside. “Your gloves—I told you they were a bad idea!”

“I’m not going to show my hands on camera, Tubbo, and since you didn’t want to ask your sisters to help, I have to suffer for the content,” Ranboo sighs, looking at his shirt. He looks utterly dismayed despite the slight shake of his shoulders and voice that shows how hard he’s trying not to laugh.

“Chat is going crazy,” says Tubbo, who composes himself faster than humanly possible. “The donos are all laughing at you.”

_ If you soak your shirt in the polish remover right now the nail polish will come off _ , a TTS donation message says. Immediately after that, another message rings out in the tinny robotic voice.  _ lol too bad ranboo you will never get that shirt back _ .

“I think I’m going to take my chances with the nail polish remover,” Ranboo decides, gingerly placing the small container onto Tubbo’s desk. “Turn off the camera. Please.”

Tubbo looks like he wants to make a suggestive remark, but decides against it and switches off the camera as he turns away from Ranboo. “Hurry up, big man, or I’m going to do this stream by myself. I’ll use my toes if I have to,” jokes Tubbo, his feet dangling slightly above the floor.

No response except for the rustle of fabric, and then the sudden sharp smell of the acetone. And then: “I’m decent now, Tubbo, you won’t need to use your feet to paint your nails. Although, knowing my hands, it’ll probably be equally messy.”

“Aw, but everything’s always better when you do it,” Tubbo says, dropping his hands from his eyes and turning back towards his PC to switch the facecam back on. He throws a glance at Ranboo, who’s holding his acetone-soaked Discord partner shirt in one hand and has apparently chosen a Lemon Demon t-shirt as a replacement. “Don’t pour nail polish on this one.”

“I don’t plan to,” Ranboo responds, and the grin in his voice is audible despite the mask and the slightly skewed sunglasses. He sets his Discord shirt down and picks up the bottle of polish again.

_ You better have good ventilation in that room or I will personally materialize myself through my screen to open all your windows,  _ a dono message rings out, and Ranboo laughs. “Don’t worry, guys, all of the windows are wide open. We are not going to die of acetone poisoning. Not today.”

“Not today,” parrots Tubbo, “maybe—maybe tomorrow. So we can be buried with our fancy as fuck nails.”

Ranboo laughs again, sitting back down on his chair, taking Tubbo’s smaller hand in his gently. “The fanciest of the fancy, chat, it’s going to be amazing,” he says, slowly brushing a thin coat of black nail polish on Tubbo’s thumb nail. It’s surprisingly neater than either of them expected. None of the polish even stained skin.

“That was a good start! I knew you were hiding some  _ skills _ in there, Ranboo,” Tubbo says, trying and failing to wiggle his eyebrows.

“...You do know I can just mess this up on purpose, right?” deadpans Ranboo, but he’s clearly enjoying the slow and calming process of painting on such a small canvas.

A shrug. “Of course you  _ can _ , but I don’t think you  _ will _ ,” is what Tubbo responds with, and Ranboo doesn’t even try to argue back. They both know he’s right.

_ Is Ranboo going to do nail art???  _ a donation message says, to which Ranboo replies with: “No, I’m not good enough for that. Chat, I—I don’t know if you know this since this is Tubbo’s chat—but I am  _ terrible  _ at art. Do not expect me to do anything fancy.”

“I’ll wear anything you paint on my nails with  _ pride _ ,” Tubbo proclaims, slowly turning left and right slightly in his chair. “Anything. Even if it might get me arrested.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, let’s not talk about crime right now,” laughs Ranboo, “that escalated quickly.”

In response to this, Tubbo fucking  _ giggles _ . “It’s always escalated with me, I don’t know what you expected,” he says, trying his best to keep his left hand steady so that Ranboo doesn’t mess up the polish.

“A bit less crime, that’s for sure,” Ranboo says, moving on to the next nail. “Like, maybe less crime and more casual streaming.”

Tubbo nods sagely. “I see. That’s a pity, though, ‘cause you know crimes farm in views.”

“I don’t think we should encourage that, actually,” replies Ranboo, his voice tinged with laughter, drenched with fondness and glazed twice over with complete and utter lovesickness that enables Tubbo more than it stops him.

But not today, it seems like. “Thank you so much for the ten tier ones!” Tubbo says before turning back to Ranboo. “Yeah, we won’t encourage crime. In fact, we will be law-abiding teenagers and go grocery shopping as soon as we finish up this little manicure thing.”

“You’ll still have to actually paint  _ my  _ nails off-stream,” Ranboo reminds him, “but we  _ are  _ going grocery shopping. I’ll push Tubbo around in the shopping cart and he’ll read out what we need while I pick the items out. It’ll be glorious.”

“Ranboo is a very convenient person to have around when you’re short, ‘cause you can ask him to grab things on the high shelves,” says Tubbo, “It’s amazing, really.”

Ranboo’s eyeroll is audible in his voice even if you can’t actually visibly see it; “Give me your other hand, Tubbo.”

“You already have my hand in marriage, you’re just greedy!” laughs Tubbo, and this actually breaks Ranboo out of his stern façade, their laughter flowing out into the day’s warmth through open windows as if carried by the gentle breeze that blows through the sparkling spring sun’s light.

**Author's Note:**

> normal people: writes a fic with an opening, buildup, climax, anti-climax, and conclusion
> 
> me: plucks a scene from what feels like a movie, writes that down in the format of a bunch of shitty thrown together words, and calls it a fic
> 
> (in the middle of me writing this tubbo said to a dono/chat message that he doesn't want to paint his nails.
> 
> also its 4:05 am lol)


End file.
